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Smalec

Wednesday 5 March 2003 | general

A friend once described mayonnaise as “whipped fat.” That name somehow seems more appropriate for a particular, traditional Polish highlander dish called “smalec,” with the “c” pronounced “ts.” It is, in a word, lard. Seasoned lard, with big chucks of boczek in it (which is basically smoked fat-back — yum). The funny thing about it is that they add something to the lard so it’s not so solid (not like the solid white blob I bought to make tortillas with the other week), and then whip it. Yes, I’ve literally eaten whipped fat, smeared it fresh-baked bread.

It took a moment before I could actually bring myself to eat it, though. I sat there, looking at the piece of bread with the glistening concoction smeared all over it, the blobs of smoked fat sitting like burnt raisins in the whipped fat that looked more like dirty whipped cream, wondering if I could go through with it. Obviously I did, else I wouldn’t be rambling about it.

And — surprise — it was tasty. Tasty in a cholesterolly, carnivorous kind of way, but tasty all the same.

Kinga informed me that she’s had much better, and that I shouldn’t judge all whipped fat on that one experience, but I think I will anyway.

Tired of worrying fat content, always thinking about calories-from-fat percentages and cholesterol levels? Try smalec. No need to worry about fat content here — it’s a nice, round 100%.

But how to make it? Simple. Put some lard and boczekinto a pot and let it simmer all day.

Next, pour the mixture through a sieve and place the now-soft chunks of fat in a ceramic container, careful not to drain entirely the now-clarified fat from the now-soft fat.

Smile as you think of the glistening mixture sliding through your body.

If your curious what the insides of your veins will look like shortly, leave the remaining mixture to cool.

Next day, dig in. Your neighborhood cardiologist will thank you for the business.

So apparently, I was wrong. It’s not whipped fat. It’s just boiled fat.

It’s amazing there are any Poles who, eating like this, live past the age of, say, fourteen.

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